


This Above All; To Thine Own Self Be True

by eonsic



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: But he redeems himself, F/M, M/M, Michael in the Bathroom, Panic Attacks, it's really gay, jeremy is a tool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eonsic/pseuds/eonsic
Summary: michael's in the bathroom at jakey d's halloween party, and it's not going too swell. unrequited love, heartbreak, betrayal, and panic attacks? talk about a heinous night. until jeremy has a change of heart. (kinda angsty, happy ending!)





	This Above All; To Thine Own Self Be True

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry i'll work on my deh stuff soon i just got super excited over bmc  
> i've never written anything more than a hug when it comes to romance  
> i hope it's okay!

Michael could feel the whole of his body growing warmer like a bomb had gone off in his face and now the heat was radiating down his shoulders and into his torso. His fingers, however, remained like ice, trembling and cold and fidgeting at the wire to his headphones in a helpless attempt at busying themselves. His music wasn’t blaring enough to distract him.

It felt like his senses were kicked into overdrive; the air freshener in Jake’s bathroom felt like a stink grenade of supersaturated lilacs and chemicals; he could hear someone blasting Nicki Minaj outside, the beat thumping in his chest intimidatingly; the florescent light bulbs shone a pale light that made his head throb. He began to feel nauseous, his breath coming up in short, erratic gasps. He clutched at his stomach, backing up against the counter with legs that shook like a newborn fawn’s.

His eyes stung dangerously with tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Really, why was he making such a big deal out of this? So what if his best friend hated him? It’s not like a loser like Michael deserved someone like Jeremy, anyway. He clumsily lifted his glasses to rub his eyes quickly, a hiccup wracking through him. God, how ridiculous was he? What kind of pussy cried over something as dumb as being left at a party?

The same pussy that sneaked in to crash said party, but was too overtaken by panic attacks to actually do anything other than camp out in the bathroom, of course. Every gesture he made to stifle the hysteria creeping up on him was a futile effort, as it returned tenfold each time he moved to disperse it. He tugged at his shirt, pressing his fist against the spot over his heart, as if to muffle the ache that was crashing over him.

Michael’s throat was strained as he tried to inhale deeply, but ended up nearly coughing up a lung. God, oh, God, what use was he if he couldn’t even fucking breathe right? This is what he got for even trying to help. Jeremy had no reason at all to believe a single word he said about the SQUIP. Understandably, he’d abandoned his best friend of twelve years for sounding like a jealous tool. It was just his way of communication, you know, having every word that came out of his mouth be completely detrimental to his social status.

He’d even lost the one friend that had sworn to have his back. This is what he was worth, then. He could hear Jeremy’s voice in a memory, calling back at him over the music, and he felt his knees buckle as he, involuntarily, replayed the events that had forced him into this state of grief and terror. He didn’t want to think about it. It just happened.

“Move it.” Jeremy had wanted to leave, but Michael was holding his ground against his best- his former best friend. If the lanky teen wasn’t going to listen to him, then he would have to- fucking coerce him, or something! Convince him! This was Jeremy Heere! They’d known each other since pre-school.

“Or you’ll what?” He had challenged, standing firm in front of the closed door. He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest enough to look like he had even an ounce of confidence. Jeremy gave him a dispassionate look, taking a step forward to just prove how much he towered over the messy-haired boy. His eyes turned a dark, blazing shade, and though his face was impassive, his voice was vehement and toxic.

“Get out of my way,” he then paused, as if testing this new tone he’d acquired, before leaning down so their faces were merely inches apart. “ _Loser_.” He spat the last word with such venom that Michael’s mouth had gone completely dry, and he could do nothing but step aside like a doll, moving mechanically at someone else’s will. The SQUIP was turned off. This was all Jeremy.

When the door slammed shut, he was left in this mess, slightly tipsy and gripped in a massive anxiety attack. He grabbed at a fistful of his dark locks of hair, a shuddering breath escaping his mouth.

“Hello!” A female’s voice ripped through, and he was too numb to startle, “other people have to pee!” Sounded like Jenna Rolan. He sputtered over himself silently, his brain shutting down, before he shouted the first thing he could muster.

“I’m having my period!” He surprised himself when his voice didn’t crack relentlessly. There was a quick moment of silence on Jenna’s part, before he heard her yell back.

“Take your time, honey.” Michael wasn’t quite calming down, but he was beginning to feel at least a little better. At least, good enough to close his eyes and not see spots beneath his eyelids. He heard a mumbling noise, and this time, started at the familiarity of the voice. Jenna screeched, “chill out, Jeremy, he’s got it rough in there! Give your man some space.”

The music that resonated through the rest of the house felt muted as Michael, huddled with his back pressed painfully against the wall, on the floor, heard the doorknob jingle. “M-Michael.” Jeremy. It was Jeremy. “Michael, please, I’m s-sorry.”

He didn’t move, couldn’t move, to open up the door. Jeremy spoke again, his voice sounding smooth and calming to Michael’s ears. “Michael, I don’t want to do this through a door. Please talk to me.” He hated himself for being soothed by that voice. His hands were clammy and still shaking like a tin can in turbulence, but he picked himself up and stumbled over to open the barrier between him and his friend.

He cracked the door open. One look at those wide, concerned blue eyes, lips parted in an unspoken apology, and hair ruffled by his own hand’s tousling, and Michael was gone. Just utterly, absolutely gone, with rage and hurt and confusion and gross joy.

“I-I-I,” he couldn’t even get it out. He paused, took a useless breath in, and began again, “Jeremiah  _Oliver_ Heere. I-I have _no_ words.” Just speaking left him devoid of air in his lungs. He was totally winded, leaning against the door frame as a support beam.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Jeremy replied softly, reaching out, and without a second thought, Michael reached out too, and met him halfway, to give a strong yank and drag the tall teen into the bathroom. The door swung shut again, but this time, the SQUIP-minded was entering as opposed to leaving in a fit of defiance.

“I swear to _God_ , you’d better not be getting busy in my shower, Jeremy!” Jake Dillinger roared through the paper-thin walls, but he broke off in a fit of intoxicated giggling as a female voice hushed him.

“Oh, leave them alone, Jakey,” Michael could just hear the flirtatious smirk and the sway of Chloe’s hips as she spoke. “We wouldn’t be here, together, without that Jerry’s help.”

Someone- Rich?- was yelling about Mountain Dew Red, but his questioning was followed by a chorus of laughter. He wondered what that was about. Really, he was just trying to keep his mind off of his problem. Problem being the boy whom he’d made the mistake of loving and befriending and lugging into this bathroom.

“-you okay? Michael?” Jeremy waved a hand in front of the bronze-skinned boy’s dazed, distracted face. To which he nodded, on instinct. Those addicting blue eyes- ugh, that’s so gay- softened, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you like that. Hell, I know about your anxiety, how could I be so dumb?” Michael averted his gaze and didn’t look back up.

“It’s- whatever,” he muttered, feeling almost frustrated with himself. He knew that Jeremy was supposed to fight for forgiveness, to work to redeem himself, but Michael couldn’t stay mad at him. He just couldn’t be mad at his best friend, especially when he was given an apology exactly where it was due. “My fault for coming anyway,” he was bitter that just the other boy’s presence managed to draw him into a safe state. He moved to open the door.

Jeremy stepped in his way, “no, it’s not _whatever_ , tell me how I can make it up to you.” Michael scoffed, swallowing a hard lump down his throat.

“Just leave me alone, Jeremy. Go fulfill your SQUIP-agenda and get Christine.” He wanted to leave it at that, but his mouth was moving on its own, “I’m too fucking tired to give you that pissed off monologue, but believe me, it’ll be coming. If you’ll even look at me for that long.”

“Yeah, I deserve that,” Jeremy whispered, sliding down to sit against the closed door. He patted the spot next to him, a gesture for Michael to join him. After a couple moments of hesitation, he did, his shoulders slumped and elbows resting on his knees. His hands were clasped loosely, fingers barely hooking onto each other naturally. “Christine kind of friend-zoned me. Which is totally my fault for asking her out directly after she broke up with Jake, but yeah. I dunno. It doesn’t really hurt as much as I envisioned it.”

Michael couldn’t help but let out a small, surprised laugh, “what, so you don’t want Christine anymore?” Jeremy went quiet for a beat, unmoved by the incredulity in the smaller boy’s face.

“Uh, maybe… not.”

“What?” Michael blurted back, a bit too loud for even his own ears; Jeremy winced a little, “sorry. No, but what? Jeremy, are you an idiot? Don’t answer that, you little shit, I know you are. Haven’t you been chasing Christine since seventh grade? No, no, no. You, Jeremy, get the _fuck_ back out there and unfriend-zone yourself.” He was pulling on the taller boy’s arm insistently, but said boy pushed away.

“Stop that,” he said softly, looking as lost as he had after his parents’ divorce. “Stop being so good to me when I’ve done n-nothing to deserve it.” Jeremy’s voice was hoarse, cracking, broken. He hugged his knees to his chest; neither of the two were big on drinking, so it was hard to tell who between them was the more emotional drunk. “I feel terrible. I’m so sorry for treating you like shit.”

“Hey,” Michael shot back, defensive on his friend’s self-deprecating behalf. “Don’t be like that. Look, I had it coming. You… deserve that chance to thrive. I was just worried about you. Who knows, I guess I was… jealous.” Jeremy buried his face into his knees, his body quivering as he began to cry. What, why was he-?

“N-no!” He croaked, “you don’t get it.” Michael didn’t know what to do, so he did what he wanted, and slipped an arm around the taller boy’s shoulders, pulling him into a half-hug. To which, he seemed to instinctively curl into the comforting act.

“What do I not get?” The bespectacled boy pressed gently. Jeremy gave an almost pitiful whine, and Michael could feel the cloth of his shoulder getting wet with his friend’s tears. He felt too sorry for the taller teen to be uncomfortable.

“I’m supposed to be consoling you, Jesus Christ,” the blue-eyed boy gasped, taking a couple seconds to calm down before speaking again, “w-when I was talking to Christine- when she like, totally rejected my s-sorry ass, I didn’t even feel _bad_. All I could- could think about was how badly I’d messed up with- with y-you.” Oh, come on. Oh, come _on_! This had to be some sick joke, right? Way to go, God, why not leech out some entertainment at snapping Michael’s heartstrings! Just another reminder that Jeremy would never even like him back.

Jeremy would never like him back the way he wanted him to. He was just a good guy who should be with his good girlfriend and rightfully ditch his bad best friend. “That was really gay, Jeremy,” he joked, to make light of the situation, but the brunet just looked up at him with dull eyes before bowing his head again, silent, a pale flush flowing over the back of his neck.

“Yeah, yeah, funny,” the crying boy slurred, “but I’m serious. I can’t believe I would- I mean, actually, it sounds exactly like something I would do. Me just hurting you like that. But I don’t want that to sound like me, you know? I don’t want that to be me. I want to be a-a…” he trailed off, hiccuping, “I just want to be a good friend to you.”

“No, no,” Michael coaxed, rubbing his friend’s arm up and back, “hey, look at me.” Tearful eyes were raised to meet his tired ones, “you’re a great friend. I mean sometimes, you have those moments, but don’t we all? Remember when you wouldn’t talk to me for a week after I told everyone in our class that you were the one who overfed Mr. Gilfin and caused his untimely demise?” Jeremy gave a reluctant-sounding, albeit genuine laugh.

“That was second grade, and you only knew about that in the first place because you _watched_ it happen.” Michael smiled, shaking his head.

“Not the point. There was also that time when I literally watched Rich writing ‘BOYF’ on your bag in passing period, knowing he’d put ‘RIENDS’ on mine.” Jeremy sat up briefly to flick him in the centre of his forehead, before settling back against Michael’s chest. Which made his face grow warm and his heart rate spike, but he wasn’t going to complain. Jeremy’s tears left a cold, wet spot on his shirt that would only cause discomfort if he stayed sat back.

“No way! Why’d you let him do that?” Jeremy had stopped crying by now, which was a great relief. It felt like a thousand pounds of pressure was lifted off his neck and shoulders when he saw his friend relaxing. He knew he wanted to tell him that he’d left the writing on because sure, it was a funny joke, but, uh, he kind of liked the idea of them being… boyfriends. He wasn’t dumb enough to say that aloud, though.

“You have to admit,” he chuckled, “it’s a _little_ funny.” Jeremy rolled his eyes, wiping his cheek sloppily with the heel of his hand. Michael wasn’t sure he’d done it until after it happened, but he’d cupped the other boy’s face to brush a stray tear away. He retracted his hand quickly, stammering an excuse.

“Michael,” Jeremy said in a slow breath, “I’m really drunk.” Said boy had to stop himself from smacking his hand to his face. Yeah, that much was obvious, at least.

“No shit,” he responded instantly.

“You really don’t get it?” Now, that was a puzzling question. He’d said something similar earlier. He didn’t understand.

“Show me what I’m missing,” he replied, almost desperately. What was Jeremy trying to say? Was he like, dumping him as a friend, officially? Was he supposed to take the hint and leave _him_ to be the one creeping in the bathroom? How was he supposed to interpret- holy. Hell. In his mini-freakout, Michael hadn’t quite noticed that Jeremy was slowly leaning toward him to close the distance between them. Well, now that their lips were connected, it was a little hard to ignore. Like, a lot hard to ignore.

He jerked back out of sheer surprise, despite wanting to lean into the kiss. Jeremy pulled back with speed to match. Not that it was a race, or anything- a race to see who could freak out and regret it first. Jeremy had a hand covering his mouth, eyes wide with guilt. Michael couldn’t help that his own hand had gone to his lips. They stared at each other, completely still in shock.

“That was _really_ gay, Jeremy,” was the first thing that left Michael’s mouth.

“Fuck,” was the first thing that left Jeremy’s mouth.

They started to speak at the same time again, but broke off. That was either single-handedly the most terrible moment of Michael’s life, or the best. This felt surreal, was it even happening? Had Jeremy Heere actually just leaned in and kissed _Michael Mell_? And not like, Christine Conigula? It had been a short kiss, closed-mouth and quick; a spur of the moment thing, no doubt. He realised that neither of them were talking, now.

“You first.” Michael said, awkwardly, scooting away a little. His face was probably glowing, but it was nothing compared to Jeremy’s. He knew for a fact that his friend’s entire being would turn a bright cherry colour whenever he even got a little nervous. It was always an endearing thing; even now, he couldn’t help but find it to be absolutely adorable.

“I-I-I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know what I was… I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Didn’t mean it.” Michael gulped, he hadn’t meant it?

“Uh, you didn’t? Uhm, r-right, yeah, of course you didn’t,” he rambled along, speaking every word that came to mind in a jumbled mess. Maybe it was the beers talking, but even he could hear the disappointment in his tone.

“Unless you… wanted me to mean it?” The words jostled Michael enough to make him cough frantically. Jeremy looked downcast, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt anxiously. “Gah, forget it,” he tried, but Michael wanted to say something to remove that dejected expression on his friend’s face.

“...how pathetic would it be… if I said I wanted you to mean it?” The look that came over Jeremy was like a sunrise; hopeful and just gorgeous. Michael wasn’t sure why, but the sight of it made him feel really good inside. Warm and- and happy, dare he say it. It wasn’t often that he felt such a deep-rooted contentedness, but it was happening now. All because of Jeremy’s reaction. Yeah, that was pretty pathetic.

“Not pathetic at all,” Jeremy murmured, moving closer again, and this time Michael went to reciprocate. But then blue eyes morphed dark in a deep sadness, and Jeremy slouched back against the door, rescinding his offer. “You’re not pathetic, Michael. I know pathetic, you’re looking at him. I mean, get a load of this! Your best friend is a selfish, power-hungry flake. That reeks of patheticness, in my opinion.” Michael frowned, taking off his glasses to fumble around with.

The world turned blurry, but he was used to being half-blind when it was just the two of them. He set his glasses down on the bathroom tile.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he started, lifting a hesitant hand to push a loose strand of hair out of Jeremy’s pale face. He let it drop before he went through with it. He cleared his throat, waiting for his heart to recover from the beat it skipped. He continued, “it’s not a bad thing to want to be noticed. To be liked. I get it.”

“It’s a bad thing to abuse my best friend and take everything we’ve been through for granted.” Jeremy insisted, his eyes- which years ago, Michael had learned to love for how expressive they were- ablaze with a determined frustration.

“I think you’re brave.” Surprise. He reiterated, “braver than I am. I’m scared, Jeremy. Of like- of everything. I could never put myself out there like you.” And then he was being hugged, and he was too dazed by the sudden action to protest.

“The fact that you’re still here even when you’re scared means that you’re braver than I’ll ever be.” Jesus, that was too much. Michael felt his eyes well up with tears, which he avidly worked at to blink away. He returned the hold around him before pulling away abruptly and twisting to face the other boy.

He would scream it to the heavens if need be; Michael Mell really, truly loved Jeremy Heere. With every ounce of feeling he possessed, he would never stop loving his best friend. He hid it in his face, only staring at the other boy. Jeremy looked puzzled, afraid, like this was the rejection he was dreading for all this time, not Christine’s.

“I just want to make this clear,” Michael smiled slowly, crookedly, his words punctuated by the beat of the perpetual music in the background, “I mean this.” Before he could second guess himself, he placed his hand at the back of Jeremy’s head and crashed their lips together. It was a good thing that he hadn’t put his glasses back on, else that would have been really painful. Jeremy made a startled noise, but didn’t fight back. He returned the kiss almost instantly, and that was by far the happiest moment in Michael’s life.

He felt supernovas in his chest, fireworks bouncing around his brain like droplets of dye in a glass of water. The first kiss was tentative and lasted for less than a few seconds. This one was still a little unsure, but there was definitely some passion. Michael was driven by the nearly depressing unrequited love he’d had to endure through for years on end, and Jeremy? Who knew; who cared? Who _could_ care when they were exploring each other’s mouths like the freaking Lewis and Clark Expedition?

Jeremy tasted like Baileys and pumpkin spice; the distinctive kick of alcohol mixed with something super sugary and the tiniest bit of cinnamon. It was most likely exactly what he’d been drinking, and made sense, given the Halloween party they were at, but Michael wouldn’t have asked for anything different. He couldn’t bring himself to mind that the person whose drink Jeremy had taken a swig from would have tasted the exact same. He only cared that he was literally living a dream come true- and God, where did this kid learn to kiss so well?

They parted for breaths and delved right back in, in sync. They worked in harmony like earbuds, each side different, but essential and monumental for proper function. Michael could have been doing ecstasy and the high wouldn’t have given him a rush nearly as good at this. This was better than he’d ever imagined. He couldn’t help but think how a heinous night could turn out like this, and he smiled into the already sloppy kiss (or was it a makeout session now? It was definitely more than one kiss, by now).

The tall teen had his arms around Michael’s small frame, and before he could even realise what was happening, he was being hauled into Jeremy’s lap, straddling the other boy’s waist. Okay, that was fine, too. Jeremy tore himself away, and Michael didn’t even try to stifle his unappreciative noise of complaint. Which died in his throat, because _Jeremy’s lips were at his neck_. He couldn’t help but yelp.

“Wait, sorry, I-” The taller of the two looked frantic and scared, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“I will gut you if you stop,” he said breathlessly, shoving him lightly against the door behind them. Jeremy’s eyes widened for a moment at the gesture, but then he complied with fervour and Michael was left to utter strings of swears under his breath. Because _Lord_ knows how much he’d wanted anything even close to this, that would leave him to be a completely incoherent mess for all the right reasons. He felt a sharp sting just by his collarbone, and he knew it should have hurt, but he was more surprised than in pain. How would he explain a hickey to his mother?

“Aah, dude,” he stammered, his fingers tangling into the brunet’s hair. “Oh, gosh, p-please don’t stop.” Well, that did not come out the way he’d planned it to.

Jeremy pulled away to look him in the eye with a shit eating grin. “Yes, Daddy.” And then they were laughing. Really hard, like way too hard to continue whatever they’d started. Which was fine because Michael wasn’t ready to get to third base with someone he couldn’t even call his boyfriend. At least they were boyf riends.

“You ruined the moment,” Michael gasped between his fits of laughter. He was still in the other boy’s lap, but didn’t feel like getting up. He rested his forehead against Jeremy’s. They just grinned at each other knowingly for a moment or two. The last time they’d laughed that hard was last February, when they caught the biggest glitch in the history of all things SEGA. It wasn’t even that funny, but they were playing that Lion King game for the SEGA Genesis that Michael had found on Ebay and some unexpected thing that he couldn’t even remember happened. It had been so random that they just laughed.

This was a completely different scenario, though; now, their delirious hysteria was motored on by giddiness and pheromones and that little awkwardness that might always be between them, just because they were Jeremy and Michael.

“Sorry,” Jeremy breathed, retreating into himself. Michael took a chance and gently lifted his face so they could see each other better.

“It’s not a big deal,” he assured with a small smile. He reached around for his glasses, but Jeremy found them first. He held onto them, and Michael didn’t try to take them back.

“I don’t mean… I’m just sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.”

“Me too,” Michael responded sincerely, going in, to hug his friend in a subtle attempt to retrieve his glasses. Because he seriously needed them. He had zero depth perception, and he was honestly shocked that he’d made it this far without smacking Jeremy in the face. He flushed as he thought that the reason why that was, was because he’d spent enough time with the other teen to know exactly where to hit so he’d just miss him in his desperate flailing.

“Good, I’m glad. But you can’t have these back.” Jeremy’s eyes glinted deviously, and confusion ripped through the boy in his lap. What game was he playing at, now? Wasn’t this enough for one night?

“What? Why not?” He interjected, reaching again in vain, only to have the glasses held out of his grasp.

“Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.” He paused. Frowned. He didn’t want anything in return.

“Jeremy.”

“Michael.” The taller teen’s tone was even, stubborn, unwaveringly patient. Said boy didn’t even have to think about what he wanted, but it didn’t stop him from hesitating. He would sound too bold, too desperate, too needy.

“...kiss me?” He said it anyway.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> i feel clever because i made a bunch of references to the script and soundtrack  
> epilogue: immediately after the last scene, jenna rolan is at the door, knocking like crazy because "GET DRESSED AND SMELL THE BURNING CORPSES, LADIES! OUT BEFORE YOU'RE ONE OF THEM"  
> rich sets a fire and he burns down the house! they make it out unscathed, but damn, he needs to learn how to handle his high. smh, shouldn't drink so much for a small bi


End file.
